Scream For Me
by SlenderXLover
Summary: An obsession that destroyed all that it touched. Jeff the Killer/ OC fanfiction! Language, Lemons, Adult Themes, Violence (maybe)
1. Stoicism

When he captured her, he tried to frighten her and hear her delicious screams reverberate against the walls in her house that they were in. He wanted to paint the walls read with her lovely, red coloured blood, and listen whilst she screamed, the noise echoing from that pretty, little mouth of hers that never ceased to get an attitude with him.

He actually planned it all out as soon as he saw her walking home from that community college that she went to. He first found where she lived; at home with her parents. Then, he tried to find out things that terrified her, but there wasn't anything that he could find, much to his disappointment.

But, he wouldn't allow that to bring him down, so he decided that he'd find out whom she loved and cared for, yet, he couldn't find anyone. And while he watched her constantly, he noticed something different about this girl. This girl showed absolutely no emotions for those around her, nor for those whom she should care about, like her mother, Caroline and her father, Robert. She didn't show anger towards the people who acted cruel to her, making jest of her and going around tripping her in the streets and sidewalks. She didn't yell at them, or blush, she just stared at them emotionlessly and then walked away, going to wherever she needed to go.

Of course, this confused him, and him being the strangely curious person he was, he was immediately interested in this woman. He figured that he could find a way to make some kind of emotion show in her, and so he wrote a note to her, giving a detailed description about how he'd gut her parents and take his time with her, before slitting her throat and killing her. He watched her when she read it, and all she did was toss it in the trash. All the hard work he did to come up with that scenario was gone. The girl didn't scream, or cry, or show fear. She didn't show it to someone in authority to try and get help for the psycho that was after her. She just threw it away.

He dug the knife into the palm of his hand; it was cold and the pain made him forget about the cold, and the blood was warm. It made him warm. He watched her every night, but this was the only night that he was watching her before she went to bed.

God, she was beautiful.

Dammit, focus! _You're going to kill her anyways! __**Not if I can help it.**_

The girl was brushing her hair, it was so damned long and shiny and curly….

He just wanted to wrap his pasty, white fingers in her fucking hair and yank….

He wanted so badly to bite along her neck and feel the vibration of her whimpers and cries of fear….

She interested him because of how fucking unresponsive she was to anything he did. So he'd do one thing that would frighten anyone. He'd torture her parents in front of her.

* * *

Nothing. None of those lovely, little screams coming from her mouth, and it pissed him off.

He had already killed her parents, and there was no one else, for there was truly no one else she should have cared about. Crossing his arms and pouting slightly, Jeff walked up to her, leaning into her space and asking her why she didn't scream in terror.

The little chit just shrugged her fucking shoulders. Bitch. He'd find a way, he would find a bloody way to make her scream for him, and he'd enjoy every last second of it before he killed her.

Suddenly, a thought took root in his mind, spreading out, growing on a miniscule wisp of a thought into a full-out plan. Why didn't he think of this before?! OF COURSE! If pain and terror wouldn't make her scream, then he definitely knew what would.

He once saw his parents doing this, when he was very young, and his mother's screams still stayed in his head. Of course, at first, he thought that his father was hurting his mother, but they were involved in more… dirty things.

Good, he'd take the girl and do things to her. Fun things, but first, he needed to know just what he had to do to make her scream. He had no experience in the sexual department other than solo-ing.

Okay, porn isn't too hard to find; he'd just use that as a reference.

* * *

Lying on her bed, Desdemona sighed softly to herself, wishing that her life weren't so bloody boring. Ever since that maniac murdered her parents, she finished up her degree and decided to stay in the house they'd left behind.

She had a feeling that Jeff was disappointed when she never reacted in any way when he did something that would make a normal person scream and call the cops on him. Then again, she was different from normal people.

A lot of people thought that she was fucked up in the head, and who was she to argue?

Ever since childhood, she'd always been the odd one out, the last one picked, the freak. Nothing's really changed; people still picked on her, tripped her, hurt her. But she'd learned long ago that if you showed the bullies your emotions, it would make them thirstier for the pain that you'd feel.

That's when she learned to stop feeling, to stop reacting the way most humans would react.

Perhaps that's what attracted Jeff to her. Maybe it was the way that she never exploded in front of others, or even at home, in front of eyes which held no judgement.

Perhaps he wanted more than to just kill her?

* * *

He was ready; he knew just what to do now. He had perfected much of his moves on common street whores, never taking them fully, though, for he refused to sully himself before doing anything with that girl. He was going to take her, and he would make her scream.

And he would enjoy every second of it.

He'd enjoy watching as her back arched and watch as her throat moved as she swallowed.

He'd listen to her scream until she couldn't anymore, then he'd kill her, but not until he was finished with her small, fragile, little body. He'd waited for weeks, and he'd be damned if he didn't take her fully if he'd spent so much time for _her_.

Yes, it was decided. Fuck her until she couldn't scream and then kill her. Let's just hope this goes according to plan, now...


	2. Lust

She was slowly brought back to consciousness. Where was she? Was it Jeff who brought her here?

Probably.

Why was she here? Why didn't she have a fucking shirt on?!

"Jeff! Why on Earth are you doing this, you idiot?!" She yelled, refusing to lose the calm demeanour she kept.

Slowly, a quiet laughter, an insane laughter, grew to a rising crescendo, reverberating off of the stone walls.

Great, she was naked and in the presence of an insane murderer. Today was just not her day.

"How foolish of you, love. If only you hadn't tempted me with your perfect personality of indifference, although, the fake smiles do irritate me."

"Me? How the hell did I tempt you?!" She asked, beginning to feel the calmness draining out of her.

Jeff walked up to her, looking at her, making her feel naked, which, in her case, was partly real. Slowly, he reached out and touched her face, her cheekbones, trailing down to her clavicle and in between her breasts to her stomach.

Why on Earth was he doing this?! Shying away from his touch, she screamed at him,

"Get away from me! Why are you doing this?!" The only answer she got in response was a grunt, which, she couldn't make much out of that. She was still left with her underwear on, but that was changed when he slipped his hand inside of her panties. Suddenly, her calmness cracked and smashed into nothing.

She writhed and struggled to get away from this psycho, but he was able to hold her still, given the fact that she was all of five feet, three inches, and Jeff towered a good fourteen inches over her.

"Stop moving, or I may do something I'll somewhat regret." He warned her. Instantly, Desdemona stopped moving and Jeff lowered his hand further into her underwear, finding her clit and touching it, making sure that he watched her facial expressions to find out what made her react the most.

Circling her core with one finger, he slowly dipped inside of her and moaned softly; she was so tight.

"Jeff, no!" She cried out, knowing that it was fruitless, for he knew that she liked it, and he wouldn't let her get away anyways. Of course, he didn't, and simply continued teasing her, making her whimper and thriving off of every sound she made. He wanted her to know who she was and that she was completely at his mercy. Jeff plunge into her faster, causing her to cry out.

He loved the way she screamed for him to stop. He knew that she liked it. He knew that she was lying when she said that she hated it.

* * *

Waking up, Desdemona realized that she wasn't at home, but still in the same place that she was taken.

She sighed. So it wasn't a dream after all.

"Hmm, so you're awake now?" She heard a voice behind her say. Jeff. The bastard.

"Yeah, I'd assume it's pretty obvious since I'm talking to you." She said sarcastically, slightly wincing when he smacked her.

"Don't get that attitude with me, little girl!" He snarled. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, please, you're, what? Twenty-four? I'm in my twenties, too!" She informed him.

"Look at the two of us. Look at who's taller than the other. And who's stronger, and faster, and bigger." Jeff smugly said, now wondering why he hadn't killed her yet, the annoying little chit.

"Could you, like, shut up? Or did your mummy not tell you how to stop yapping?" She goaded him, not knowing what he'd done, only knowing that he was a killer.

Jeff's eyes darkened, and he stepped towards her, grabbing her neck and shaking her, hoping that she would whimper or cry, but she didn't. Damn her, the bitch! Why?! Did she do it just to irritate him?

"My mother… is dead, you- you bitch!" He said half- heartedly, shaking her almost gently.

"Oh. Hmm… apologies." She said to him, hoping to redeem herself.

"It's," Jeff sighed. "It's fine, just learn when to shut the fuck up, okay?"

Desdemona nodded.

"Sure."

"Now, I think that it's time for you to scream. It's getting rather… boring and quiet here." He said, grinning while taking off the last of her clothes and slipping his hand inside of her underwear. "After all, we wouldn't want a boring place, now would we?" He asked her, before causing her to erupt in screams yet again. It was a beautiful disaster to his ears.

* * *

Why? Why didn't he kill her? He told himself that as soon as he fucked her, she'd be dead, and he already did.

Oh, god, he could remember the way her skin lit up in the moonlight as he picked her up and thrust her against him. He remembered touching her, loving her, fucking her. He relished every moment of it, because she was sure to die, but yet, he didn't kill her! WHY?! WHY DID HE NOT KILL HER?

He hated her!  
No, no he didn't.  
YES. HE. DID.

That bitch, he hated her, hated her, hated her, HATED HER!

Then why didn't you kill her?!

BECAUSE!

Just kill her already! Are you a coward?!

I am NOT a coward!

Then KILL HER.

_**NO!**_

"Are you okay?" He heard her ask. He forgot; she was in the same room as him, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him.

"Yes. I-I am fine." He choked out, not convincing her, but it would do.

"Hmm. Whatever you say…." She trailed off, still not believing what he said.

"I told you, child. I am fine." He turned to glare at her, daring her to challenge what he said. She never did.

"Okay, I believe you." She told him in an unconvincing voice. "So… um, why did you even take any sort of interest in me anyways?"

"I was interested in how you could face anything with no emotion." He responded, not looking towards her, but to the ceiling.

"Oh. How come you wanted to hear me scream so badly?"

_Wanted? If you think that I don't still want to bend you over the coffee table in front of us and fuck you into oblivion, you are portraying quite a bit of naïveté, love._

"I don't know. Probably because you never talk much, and I wanted to hear you let yourself loose." He told her, grinning when she blushed and crinkled her nose.

"That's stupid."

"That's men for you, love."


	3. Confusion

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I've been out at my Grandmother's house in the country with no Wireless connection whatsoever. However, that predicament does have a silver lining! I got to write on Microsoft Word as much as I want! So, there you go! Enjoy the chapter!**

She was sick. Oh god, she was so sick. For so long, she had saved herself, forced herself to abstain from dirty thoughts, and now, here she was, her head slamming against the headboard with every, single thrust he made.

And she liked it.

Oh, god, she was a whore! A filthy, dirty whore, who deserved to be used and abused this way.

But, she knew that she loved it. She loved every time he cornered her, in a hallway, in the bathroom, the shower, and fucked her, whether it be against the wall, or on the table, the ground.

She loved every second of it.

But, she hated him. He took her, kept her captive and screwed her whenever the need struck him.

He was selfish, lustful, greedy, and wrathful. Four of the seven sins.

But, sometimes, and only sometimes, he was nice, almost.

He fed her, kept her clothed (except when he wanted her naked), and kept her alive. Why, though?

Did he like her as more than a fuck buddy? Or was it just sex, and no feelings?

No, it had to be the former, he had to like her. Not that she gave a shit which one he liked her as, but she was a bit curious. No guy had ever expressed the desire or the want to touch her like that.

Probably because she never let any guy close enough to think about it, though.

"What the fuck are you thinking about?" She looked at Jeff's face, seeing his frustrated expression at the way she didn't react to the way he touched her breasts, or when he trailed his hand down her stomach.

"Er, nothing. Nothing at all." She told him, as they both succumbed to desire and lust once again.

Sometimes, she felt like a mere slave to him, but yet, she didn't care. She did what he asked, and in return, he gave her love and care. She didn't dare bring love into it, though, for she knew that he'd kill her if she did, but sometimes she heard him whisper that he loved her as they both fell asleep after a good rut.

She knew better than to bring it up, but she could easily attempt to get it out of him and let him know that his feelings were reciprocated.

"I l-love you." She'd tell him, and even though he didn't respond, she heard him whisper it in her ear when he thought she was asleep.

This maniac's in love with me, she'd think to herself. He loves me and I love him. Oh, god, what's _wrong_ with me?!

Every time that she looked in the mirror, she could only see a girl who had haunted eyes, and love bites riddling her neck, arms, and waist. She felt thoroughly fucked every time she saw herself.

She wasn't quite sure that she wanted to belong to Jeff, but it's not as if she actually had a choice, right?

Right?

"Mine," he'd whisper to her, breathing heavily in her ear. She didn't mind, though. She had grown to love- no, care- about him, to an extent. Had he grown to care for her? It's not as though she cared whether he liked her or not. It didn't really matter to her at all. Nothing really matters, to be honest.

"No one but me will _ever_ be aloud to touch you. Never, ever." He would tell her when she asked if she could leave and at least collect some of her things before going back to him.

Not a chance. He wouldn't even let her leave the fucking house, the bastard.

She only asked him once; she learned not to ask him to leave ever again.

"Leave? You want to leave?! Why?! What's wrong with this foundation that I have so generously offered you? Is it not good enough for you? Do you want a fucking mansion the size of fifty bloody football fields?! Well, too bad! You'll never leave me! NEVER!" He had screamed at her, never giving her the chance to ever respond to any of the questions he spat at her.

That night, he beat her and screwed her into submission. That night, his knife had cut into her twenty-four times, his teeth had marked her throat thirteen times, her stomach twenty times, and the insides of her thighs twelve times.

When she was permitted to take a shower, she only saw a beaten, shattered girl staring back at her. It sickened her. No, it made her want to wretch in the white toilet beside her, that's how horrible she looked.

Jeff thought she looked perfectly fine, though. He loved the way she looked; beautiful, apparently.

"Perfect," he'd croon in her ear, trailing his hands down her chest. She wanted to slap his hands away; his fingers lingered on the cuts and bruises that he made. She felt hatred for him. But, yet, she still cared for him. Maybe she even loved him. No, no, she couldn't. She wouldn't love him. It was wrong.

She was his whore. Nothing else, just someone to fuck when the need struck.

She hated the situation she was in, but it's not like she could do anything about it, now could she?

"No! No, I don't want to!" She told him, not noticing the way his eyes lit up with anger.

"You have no choice! I'm the one putting a fucking roof over your head, and you'll do as I tell you to!" He yelled at her, lifting her up and throwing her on the ground, making her shout in anger and hurt.

"Stop, Jeff! Just stop!"

"Don't fucking tell me what to do!"

"Jeff, please!"


	4. Whirlwind

**Oh my god. Guys, I know that I should probably be beaten because of this. I am so so so freaking sorry! I suppose my sorry excuse for never updating is my school work and actual work. I can't believe how lethargic I have been. I will ****endeavour**** to ****write more and update more frequently. Again, I apologize profusely, and enjoy this chapter of Scream For Me.**

He stared into her eyes, panting heavily. His crazed, lid-less eyes gazed into her frightened ones.

"Mine. You're mine. You will never tell me what I can or can't do because you have no say in my actions. Bend over my lap, whore," he ordered. She glanced up at him, confusion on her face.

"What? I-I don't understand…"

Jeff grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down on to his lap.

"For your hesitance, you shall receive ten, ten for your incompetence, fifteen for your tongue," he decided. She furrowed her brow in confusion. Thirty-five what?

"Jeff, what do you-" Jeff pulled down her knickers. "What are you-"

Her voice was cut off by the resounding smack that filled the air. She couldn't move for a second. Did he just _spank_ her?

She didn't have much time for more thoughts, as Jeff brought his hand down on her ass again, and again, and again, and again, and again….

She lost count of how many times he spanked her, lost to the pain she felt. She hasn't been spanked since she was a child….

He spanked her again…. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

He spanked her again…. She could no longer hold back the cries of pain.

He spanked her again…. Then he stopped.

"Have you learned your lesson, Desdemona?"

She could barely hear him, as she couldn't focus on anything but the stinging pain on her bottom. She never was turned on by pain as some were, and this didn't turn her on. It bloody well hurt.

"I asked you a question, you bitch!" he shouted, tangling his fingers in her hair again and yanking her up so that she was eye-level to him. She knew she must look like rubbish, as her face was burning and tears were flowing down her cheeks.

"I- I learned m-my lesson," she whimpered, wanting nothing more than to rub the stinging away, but knowing that he would most likely punish her for it.

"Good girl," he praised softly, loosening his fingers and massaging the dull ache in her head away. "You did well."

She sniffled and nodded, leaning against the only solid thing close to her; him.

He pet her hair as though she were his dog and carried her to a bed, setting her on it before walking out and turning off the light.

"Go to sleep."

* * *

The light turned on and abruptly awoke Desdemona. She winced as she could feel the bruises on her bottom.

She walked in to a bathroom and inspected her behind. She saw hand-shaped bruises lining each cheek.

She felt tears well up in her eyes. He said that he loved her. Was it just the afterglow of sex?

If he loved her, he wouldn't be doing this.

If he loved her, he would act as though he loved her.

If he loved her, he would treat her like a woman, not like a whore. Not like an animal.

But he had to love her… right? He _did_ love her… right?

Yes. Yes, he did- He does. He loves her because he gives her a place to sleep and he comforts her.

_He's nice to me, sometimes…_ _He loves me. _

_He loves me._

_He has to love me…_

_He must love me._

_He must, he must, he must..._

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Jeff asked Desdemona, startling her. She glanced at him.

"Nothing. I was just wondering where you were," she lied. He seemed to believe it and walked over to her.

"I'm right here," he told her gently. Or, as gently as someone like him could. Desdemona gave a half-smile.

"Yes…. Yes," she murmured. He ran his fingers through her hair, working his fingers through the knots.

She felt puzzled. Why was he being so nice to her? He usually came in to fuck her and leave.

Why was he treating her better?

Was it possible that the spanking last nice changed his perception of her?

It must be that.

_He does still love me. _

_He always has._

_He's just expressing it differently…_

Desdemona stared at her legs, not willing to meet Jeff's eyes until he took her chin in his hand and lifted her head to stare in to her eyes.

"You're mine."

She continued to stare at him.

"You're mine. Say it. Now," he demanded. She looked at him. It seemed as though he was back to his usual self. What a pity.

Desdemona sighed and complied.

"I- I'm yours."

* * *

Jeff was looking out the window and thinking to himself.

_I feel as though she is someone I'd like to keep around…_

_**What are you thinking? You said it yourself that as soon as you fucked that whore, you'd kill her.**_

_But, I don't want to. Not yet. Later._

_**No. No, not later. You need to get rid of her. Now.**_

_You can't make me. You're just apart of my mind. You have no power over me._

_**I have no power over you? I **_**am** _**you. We are one in the same, Jeff. **_

_I will not hurt her. Not anymore. She's mine. You're going to stay out of this._

_**Like hell I will. If you don't get rid of the girl, I will.**_

_You won't. She belongs to me. You will not get rid of my possession. She is _mine.

_**You know what? I won't kill her just yet. But if you don't want her to die, you'll do what I tell you to do.**_

_What? What is it that you want me to do?_

_**You **_**will** _**show her who she belongs to. If she's yours, she had better have marks to prove it. You hurt her, or else I'm taking it in to my hands.**_

_You will do nothing. She is mine. Mine._

_She is mine._


End file.
